If you’re looking for answers, I’m sorry I don’t have them…
When you lose a parent, a part of you goes with them. After all, they are literally half the reason that you are alive.
Yesterday marked six years since I lost my dad to suicide. It still hurts just as bad as the day he was gone. I have two younger sisters that my mom adopted as a single mother. Some days, I am so envious of them because I think to myself that it would be so much easier if I just didn’t have a father in my life to begin with.
I didn’t have a great relationship with my dad. He has problems with alcoholism, a cunning way of manipulating anyone around him, was overly adamant about turning me into a professional golfer (seriously), and I had Cruella de Vil as a step mother. None the less, he was still my father. I’m not sure if things would have be better or worse for me now if our relationship were different. I find myself thinking about the memories I have, many of them being bitter, and regret the times I overreactive, begging my mom so badly to pick me up from his house.
I would give anything just to have five more minutes with him, or to be able to go back and replay the conversations where he tried to give me advice about life, people, and the world that I just blew off and only half listened to. People say “time heals all wounds”, but that’s not true. If anything, it’s harder now than it was six years ago to not have him in my life. Despite his crude temperament, he had a business mind. It’s only now that I realize he probably had so much to teach me and likewise there may have even been a few things about life that I could have taught him.
That fact that it was his choice to be gone too soon is what hurts the most. Parents are supposed to set the example for you, teach you how to do things. They’re not supposed to take the “easy” way out of life, no one is. I don’t feel guilty about what he did, I know that it wasn’t my fault, but I do wish he would have just picked up the phone to call me so that I could have told him how much he meant to me and how much I loved him. Maybe he would have stayed for me.
Since he died, I’ve become the master of keeping myself busy and booking myself to maximum capacity. Too much down time leaves room for the pain to crawl in. I’m slowly learning that I don’t have to be strong all the time. You’ll be surprised how many people are ready and willing to support you when you ask for it. It’s okay to be vulnerable.
So today, I don’t have tips, suggestions or advice for getting over losing a parent to suicide. Instead, I’m asking you. Start a conversation and share your story below. The only way we can stop suicide is by talking about it and bringing awareness to the issue.
If you’ve lost someone, I feel for you. When someone decides to commit suicide, they don’t realize just how much it will affect the people around them. If you’re considering suicide, I’m begging you to get the help you need. You do have a purpose and your life is important. This world needs you. There is nothing embarrassing about reaching out and helping yourself – it’s a sign of courage, not weakness. There are so many resources out there, you just have to speak up and find them. People who judge suicide and mental illness with a stigma are the ones who really deserve to be judged themselves.